


Plus One

by CorvusCorvidae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Flashbacks, Marriage, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, or discussions surrounding that at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: Raven see's her estranged wife for the first time in almost seven months; only, this time, she's not alone.





	Plus One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try and keep this story short...but I also said that about Potential, so let's just wait and see.

Staring at a sea of blue paint, spread across a canvas, Raven tried to work out what she was seeing exactly. The plaque next to it simply explained the media used and year of creation, with ‘Untitled’ tacked at the top, which was no help. Where the hell was the artist when she needed her? 

“Well?” Clarke asked, as if sensing her presence was wanted. 

“I don’t get it,” Raven replied, still staring musingly at it, and completely ignoring Clarke’s eye roll. 

“You don’t need to, others will.” And others would buy it. 

“Whatever, you do you, Griffin.” Turning away from the painting, Raven looked round the room with a slightly impressed nod. “Better turnout than I thought you’d get.” 

“I love your faith in me,” Clarke deadpanned. “But yeah, me too,” she confessed, earning a grin. 

“Although I have one complaint.” 

“Can’t wait to hear it,” Clarke said, unamused.

“The bar is shitty, who only serves wine and champagne? Come on I want hard liquor.” That would have earned Raven another eye roll, if it hadn’t been for the various faces smiling Clarke’s way. 

“Get your hard liquor elsewhere, this is meant to be a classy event.” 

“You can’t create class, Clarke, it’s natural. The artist in you should know that.” Raven waved her hand as she spoke, eyes scanning the room still. 

“The artist in me says I should punch you in the face and call it a performance piece.” 

“Cute,” Raven smirked, finishing off the glass of champagne, looking around for another. 

“How many of those have you had?” 

“Not nearly enough to put up with your company,” Raven replied, teasingly, as the wait-staff passed with another. 

“Don’t get too sauced.” 

“Why not?” That had her curious. Clarke would only mention it if there was good reason, because Raven damn well knew how to hold her drink. 

“I should have maybe warned you sooner, but Lexa is here,” Clarke replied, voice a little tighter, her eyes now scanning the room, while Raven watched Clarke’s reaction. 

“You don’t need to warn me. We can be civil.” Civil, polite, pretend the other didn’t exist. Easy. 

“That’s not why I’m warning you-” Clarke went on, and Raven felt like she’d heard enough. 

“Look, I get it, things were messy towards the end, but it was stressful. You know that. We can be perfectly-” 

“Raven, I’m just saying, I think you’ll get a surprise when you see her-” And the tightness in her voice was back, along with a pursing of her lips, and that had Raven narrowing her eyes. 

“Why, she dyed her hair some obnoxious colour? Got a tattoo across her forehead? Nose piercing?” So very un-Lexa-like. 

“Well, no,” Clarke said, shaking her head. 

“Then I’ll be fine. Lexa is clearly still Lexa, it won’t matter.” 

“If you say so…” The pause at the end of her words hung in the air, and Raven could tell there was more. 

“Okay, what? What is it?” What was so goddamn special about Lexa that Clarke needed to warn her about in advance? 

“It’s Lexa...plus one.” Ah. She’d moved on. 

“She has a date? Fantastic. Can’t wait to meet the poor girl.” 

Clarke could see right through that, but didn’t dare touch on the matter. 

“Yeah, well, just, remember what I said. I’m going to go mingle.” 

“You do you, Griffin,” she repeated, dismissing her.

Finishing off another glass of champagne, Raven handed back the glass and opted to wander round the rest of the paintings she hadn’t looked at yet. 

Clarke was indeed doing Clarke, selling her vision and her work to those eager to listen, which there were many; and dotted around the room were those close friends, family members, present for support, to see the success in the making. 

It was easy to miss the familiar faces in the crowd, but now that Raven knew Lexa was there, she didn’t stand a chance of missing her. 

And Jesus, was that true. 

There was always the question in the back of Raven’s mind on whether Lexa would still have the same effect on her, the next time she saw her. From that piercing gaze that hooked her every time, to the soft contours of her face, the tenderness that was present, to the firmness of her jaw, strong and ready. Raven hoped her body would stop reacting to her, but it was futile. 

Lexa’s presence was enough to make her heart pick up speed, her palms to go clammy, and her throat to run dry. Even after all this time, it was like looking at her for the very first time, and seizing up, knowing, this moment was important, she was important. 

There was bodies in the way, so Raven could only see Lexa from the shoulders up, but even still, she had that effect, and suddenly there wasn’t enough champagne in the room to quench her thirst and calm her nerves. 

As always, Lexa looked effortlessly stunning, her hair in soft curls over her shoulders, a plain white shirt, open slightly at the collar, revealing those collarbones Raven used to kiss, and it hurt, her chest ached from the memories. 

So many, of the initial flirtation, the awkward and tender dates, the arguments and bickering, the heated kisses and tender touches, the storm outs and the yelling, the make up sex and the breakup sex, the mornings tucked up in bed, the nights curled up on the couch, the words whispered longingly, tenderly, seductively, and then no more. 

It hurt. It really hurt. 

And then the bodies moved, and Lexa was left standing, clear as day, before her, and Raven’s sudden intake of breath was heard by those nearby. If she hadn’t handed the champagne glass back, it would have been shattered across the floor. 

Matched perfectly with Lexa’s white shirt was a black skirt, high at the waist, but what made it almost uncomfortable to look at was the pregnant swell of her stomach. 

And that had Raven clenching her eyes shut, and opening them again, expecting another result. 

“Hey, you okay?” Murphy asked, having heard her, and she looked at him in a daze, shaking her head. 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” he repeated, frowning. 

“Yeah. The bubbles. I need air,” she stammered, feeling out of sorts, her stomach rolling, her heart galloping, and with the room spinning. 

“I can come-”

“No,” she barked, needing to be alone, needing to understand what the fuck she had just seen. 

Having sussed the layout of the gallery earlier, Raven strode through the back, finding the emergency exit again, and opening it without a second thought. It was the only safe escape, going out the front would have meant going passed Lexa, and no way, no way was she doing that. 

She couldn’t look at her, she couldn’t even think to look at her.

Pregnant. 

She was pregnant. 

She was going to have a baby. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Why? With who? Had she moved on- No. No. No. Raven knew better than to torture herself with those questions. She knew they weren’t hers to ask. She’d made that clear when they broke up. 

Lexa was her own person, and it wasn’t any of Raven’s business. 

And no matter how many times she told herself that, it didn’t stop the relentless curiosity that was itching at her. 

From what she saw, Lexa could only be four or five months along, which meant she conceived some time in May or June, which was maybe only six months after they separated, give or take. That wasn’t long at all. Especially since that was only two months after-

“Murphy said you were out here,” Clarke said, standing in the doorway, her hands rubbing her arms from the chill. Raven hadn’t noticed. 

“Yeah, I needed air.” 

“You saw her.” With a nod, Raven confirmed Clarke’s suspicions. 

“Funny, plus one. I get it now,” she drawled, without a bit of humour in sight. 

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“You knew?” Raven didn’t want the answer, because she already knew what it would be. 

Clarke nodded. 

“I was with her for some of the doctor appointments.” Raven tried not to let that sting. Tried. But it felt like her world was shattering. Clarke had been there at Lexa’s appointments. Holding her hand, no doubt. Offering her support, no doubt. Caring for her the way Raven had once, no doubt. 

“So you and her?” she needed to know, she had to ask. 

“No,” Clarke replied, quickly, stepping out, closer. “We’re friends. I could never do that to you.” 

“She’s pregnant,” Raven whispered, and Clarke closed the distance that was left, wrapping Raven in her arms. 

“She is.” Raven returned the hug for one fierce second, before needing to step back, to put some space between them. 

“I don’t know whether to be happy or upset.” There was elation, because holy shit, Lexa was actually pregnant, but there was that wave of sadness, that it had happened without Raven, after everything else. 

“You can be both,” Clarke said, her gaze soft. 

“Can I? It feels selfish.” And a lot like anger and jealousy rolled into one, that it would happen after they broke up, after what they had been put through. How was that fair? How was that fucking fair? 

“You should talk to her.” Yeah right.

“No. I can’t. No way.” 

“Okay, not tonight” Clarke said, knowing that might have been the wrong move. 

“You should get back, you’re the artist after all.” Raven eyed the traffic at the other end of the alley, and knew she could easily make her escape. 

“Where are you going?” Clarke asked. 

“To get that hard liquor,” Raven smiled, fake to the core. 

“I’ll send Murphy-”

“No, no, I’m going to...I’m going to go home.” That would ease Clarke’s worries somewhat.“I have booze there.” 

Clarke’s worried smile was the goodbye she needed, and Raven walked away, out into the open street, back with the flurry of lights and activity. Time to go home. Time to go home. 

*0*0*

The drumming of the knife on the chopping board was almost matching Raven’s heartbeat as she wandered into the kitchen, seeing Lexa busy making dinner, still dressed in her work attire, even though she knew better.

“Where’s your apron?” Raven asked, frowning. 

“I’m not wearing that.” Of course she wasn’t. 

“Well, you can drop your shirts off at the dry cleaner when you get sauce on them,” she sang, teasingly, and took a deep breath. The nervous energy had her feeling fidgety, and that would be a dead give away something was up. 

Lexa knew all her tells, and would spot it a mile away. 

“Can you pass me the salt?” Lexa asked, glancing over her shoulder to see it still on the dining table from this morning. 

Raven grabbed it at her request and went back over to hand it to her. Lexa reached out, but Raven’s pass wasn’t smooth, and it clattered to the floor with a bang. Muttering a curse, she bent down, picked it up, and practically shoved it in Lexa’s hands. 

“You okay?” Lexa asked, frowning at why Raven was on edge. 

She didn’t drop things. She wasn’t clumsy. She had seriously steady hands. Her work called for it.

“Yeah.” 

“You sure?” Lexa could tell, she was going to ask. 

“Yeah,” but not really. Biting her bottom lip, Raven moved until she was on the other side of the kitchen counter, facing Lexa across the island. 

There was no point stalling, it would ruin their night, and Lexa was making her favourite, so she needed to get her act together and just say it. 

“I’d like to have a baby,” she said, outright, and the knife Lexa was chopping with came to a halt. 

Another beat, and then Lexa lifted her head, to look at her. 

“Okay,” she said, placing the knife down, and turning back to the cooker. 

Wait, what?

“You don’t seem surprised,” Raven said, frowning, as she moved round, closer, and hopped up onto the counter, pushing the chopping board over slightly. 

Lexa shot her a look, be careful, and then moved the chopping board and knife off the island.

“We discussed it in college. We always knew it was on the cards,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders, because they had. 

Late nights, under the covers, early mornings, under the covers, lips learning each other’s body, whispering promises and admitting wants to one another. 

“That’s true,” Raven agreed, nodding, but still watching Lexa. “So, I’ve dealt the hand, and I’d like to know how you feel about what’s on the table.” 

She might have said okay, but did that actually mean ‘okay’?

“I think we should do it,” Lexa said, sliding the chopped veg into the pot, and putting the heat down.

“Really?” Raven asked, drawing Lexa’s attention. She walked over, until she was standing in front of Raven, body standing between her legs.  

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, catching her gaze straight on. 

“I don’t need to convince you?” 

“Nope,” Lexa replied, shaking her head. 

“Huh.” 

“Didn’t think the conversation would go this way?” Lexa teased. 

“Not really, no,” Raven admitted, smiling guiltily. “I thought I’d need to talk you into it.” Lexa grinned but shook her head. 

“We’re both doing well at work, we have the house for a baby, the mortgage isn’t crippling us,” Lexa listed, and Raven wondered if all the options were going to be practical. “And, you know, it’s you and me. I think we’d be good at this, together.” 

“You don’t need to convince me,” Raven parroted. 

“No,” Lexa smiled, leaning in, nuzzling into her, before kissing Raven softly. 

*0*0*

The days that followed Clarke’s event, Raven kept a low profile. She had seen the missed calls and the unopened texts on her phone, but opted not to delve into them. There wasn’t much to say, in her mind, she was still coming to terms with what she’d seen. 

Witnessing Lexa, pregnant, visibly pregnant, it pulled at Raven in a way she hadn’t expected. It had pulled her back down memory lane, back to the days after she found out Lexa was pregnant, back to the nights kissing Lexa’s stomach, and back when everything in her life seemed to going good. 

Now, all she had was a line where her wedding ring used to be, and an empty bed to come home to. 

But Lexa was pregnant. 

The enormity of that reality was not lost on Raven, nor on Clarke, who, after tired of being ignored, pitched up at Raven’s door. Raven should have anticipated that move from Clarke, would have foreseen it coming if she’d been on her A game. 

“I brought booze and snacks, so let me in?” Clarke had said, when Raven opened the door. As if to prove her point, she shook the bottle of Jack and gave a smile, knowing that would grant her entry. 

Which was how Clarke and Raven were steadily on their way to drunkville two hours later, sprawled out on the couch, TV down low, the lights casting shadows across the room. 

“Lexa spoke to me,” Clarke finally said, broaching the subject she had came their to discuss. 

“Oh yeah? That’s novel, given you two are friends and everything,” Raven said, a little sassier than she meant to be. 

“She wants to talk to you.” 

“She has my number.” 

“Raven,” Clarke sighed, and no, she didn’t get to do that, not under these circumstances. 

“Clarke,” Raven repeated, not lifting her eyes from the TV. 

“I think she wants to explain.” Of course she does. 

“I don’t care.” That was a lie, but she didn’t want to care, so really, same thing. 

“Yes, you do.” 

“Whatever,” Raven sighed. “Her explaining will only make her feel better, not me.” It’ll fill Raven’s head with questions, instead, and then she’ll never come to terms with it all. 

“Don’t you want her to feel better?” Clarke asked, and she knew right where to bait her.

“Ugh, don’t. You know I want her happy, and she seemed perfectly happy last time I saw her; plus one and all.” 

“You’re going to regret not talking to her.” 

“No, I’m really not.” Another lie, but this was better for her. This was better for Raven. Maybe.  

“Don’t you miss her?” 

“Don’t make me ask you to leave.” It wasn’t a veiled threat, just a plea. Raven couldn’t be entertaining thoughts like that. 

“I don’t get how you two got here,” Clarke mused, looking into the bottom of her glass, empty. 

“Yes, you do.” 

“No, not really. You gave me bits and pieces, she gave me bits and pieces, but I don’t get how the two of you woke up one day and decided that you didn’t want to wake up next to each other anymore.” 

“It was more complicated than that.” Or at least it felt like it to Raven. 

“Was it?” 

“Come on, Clarke.” It wasn’t right for her to try and analyse the downfall of Raven’s marriage. Yes, they might have separated, but at the rate they were going, and with Lexa’s pregnancy, divorce was surely on the cards. 

“It’s not been long, there is still time to-” Clarke went on to say. 

“Time to what? She is pregnant. Do you not understand the decision she made? Do you not understand what that means?” Clarke knew, of that Raven was sure, but still, she posed the questions, and waited. 

“You should talk to her,” she pushed. 

“And say what? Congratulations, you have everything you ever wanted,” Raven mimicked.

“Except you,”  Clarke supplied. 

“Lexa doesn’t want me, you forget that. She chose her wants and wishes over me, over my needs, and now here we are. So no, don’t give me that crap.” 

That silenced Clarke, and Raven felt exhausted all of a sudden. She wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep, right there on the couch. 

“Please, for me, talk to her?” It was with a sigh, but Raven nodded. A small part of her wanted to, a small part of her appreciated Clarke pushing for this, a small part of her craved Lexa the way she always had, and maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe she was just coming to her senses, but it felt right to agree. 

“Tell her to text me. Not phone. I don’t want to speak directly to her.” Seeing her was one thing, hearing her voice something else entirely. 

“Okay,” Clarke nodded, slowly, before leaning over and giving Raven’s arm a squeeze. “Trust me on this one, yeah?” 

What choice did Raven really have? 

*0*0*

You’re going to be mad at me,” Raven mumbled, dropping her head into the crook of Lexa’s neck, earning a small laugh in return. 

It was a Thursday night, after dinner, where they had both retreated to do some work and relax. Raven had been debating it all night, doing a better job keeping her cool than last time, but the night was moving on and she needed to come clean. 

“Oh yeah? What piece of furniture did you get oil on now?” Lexa asked, a smile on her lips still, holding Raven close. 

She’d been working away at the dining room table, but had risen to accept Raven’s embrace when she came in, looking a tad unsure as she did so. 

“I wish it was that simple.” 

“Talk to me,” Lexa prodded, waiting. 

“You know how we spoke about having a baby?” That made Lexa tense slightly, but she didn’t say anything on it. 

“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed. 

“And it was me that brought it up, and pushed for it,” Raven went on to say. 

“You’ve changed your mind,” Lexa filled in, gaze averted. 

“No,” Raven’s eyes almost bulged at the thought, “not at all.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” There had to be one. 

“My prototype has been selected for the next round of testing, it’s going to mean long hours, some travel, and Sinclair said-”  she was beginning to ramble, and Lexa cut her off, filling in the blanks once again. 

“It’s your big break,” she said, and Raven nodded.

“It’s one of many, though.” It would be, and there would be others, of course. She hoped. 

“But you’re not going to be able to commit the hours to your job and have a baby at the same time.” That was the real crux of the matter.

“Well, not going to be able to carry the baby…” Because really, if Lexa was able to do that part, Raven wouldn’t have to take maternity leave, and that would help considerably. 

“Oh,” Lexa said, as if realising where this conversation was actually going. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Raven,” Lexa said softly, brushing back her hair and kissing her soundly. “I might have been a little blase when we first discussed this, but I want it. I want a baby. I’m happy to carry our baby.” 

“Your job-”

“Has great maternity leave,” she answered, and Raven didn’t doubt that. But it was more how Lexa was going to feel about doing so. 

“You’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

Why was she worried about this? Why had she worried at all? Lexa had it covered, like she always did. 

*0*0*

Lexa’s text came in late the next night, when Raven was lying out in front of the couch, almost exactly how she had been when Clarke was over. 

At first, she didn’t notice. But then it was the adverts on TV and she was pretty close to advancing to the next level in that silly fruit machine game that she picked her phone up try again. 

And Lexa’s message was waiting for her. 

Raven wished she could say she was fine and opened it right away, but that would be a lie. She hummed and hawed, biting her lip, closing her eyes and thinking it through, because once she opened that door, she knew there would be no going back. 

But did she want to? 

[Lexa] Clarke passed on your message, thank you for being willing to talk

It was simple and to the point, of course, no surprise there. But Raven didn't know what she was to say to that. It was Lexa that really wanted to talk, not her. 

And as if realising that, Lexa sent another. 

_ [Lexa] The other night, at the gallery, I’m sorry for springing that upon you. I honestly thought someone had told you.  _

It was a cheap move, and Raven called her on it. 

_ [Raven] You should have told me _

_ [Lexa] Yes, I know. I’m sorry.  _

_ [Raven] What do you want, Lex?  _

_ [Lexa] I want to talk to my wife _

_ [Raven] We’re separated. Your doing.  _

That wound still stung. 

_ [Lexa] My biggest regret _

Raven had had enough; picking up the phone, she hit call and waited until Lexa answered. Given that they were just messaging, it didn’t take long at all for her to answer. 

“Raven?” 

“You don’t get to say things like that, Lex. You don’t.” And she needed to stop using her nickname, but old habits die hard. 

“It’s the truth.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t.” Raven let out another sigh and shook her head. “This isn’t fair, and you know it. You can’t just open up the past because you feel like it. What about me? What about how I feel? I mean, come on, Lexa, you’re pregnant. You’re having a baby. Without me.” 

That brought silence to Raven’s ears, and she pulled the phone back after a few seconds to see if Lexa had actually hung up. 

No, no, she was still on the line. 

“It wasn’t meant to be this way, Raven.” 

“No fucking shit, Lexa.” Raven swallowed the emotions at that, and dropped her head back. “What...are you okay?” she asked, trying not to hate herself for wondering. 

“Yes,” Lexa answered, simply. 

“And the baby?” 

“Healthy,” she said, quickly, knowing that was coming. 

“Have the all clear?” 

“As best as they can say, yes.” It was a relief, even when it wasn't her kid, and fuck. 

Raven remembered it all, she recalled exactly what Lexa was wearing that night, when she came home and there were pregnancy tests and they all had two lines on them, and Raven hadn’t been happier. 

And God, Lexa. She was carrying her child, and fuck, if that didn’t make her love her more - which she didn’t think possible. The nightmare trying to get it all together, trying to put their life together had worked, and she was pregnant. Actually pregnant. 

They were going to be parents. 

“I should go,” Raven said, remembering Lexa on the line, still. “I wish you...both, all the best.” 

“Rae, please, you don’t have to-” 

But enough was enough, and she hung up the phone, dropping her head back and staring up at the ceiling. 

It was too much sometimes, it was all too much. 


End file.
